The next day was business as usual for Joe Robinson. He got up and
practiced on his saxophone like he always did. As it has been said, Joe
was pretty good, and as a result his neighbors didn't mind the 24-hour-a-
day jazz flowing from the house.
Joe's house was a run-down shack he had bought for a very small number of pennies. It had a horrible paint-job, and was littered with suits of clothing and little surprises from his dog, Bleu Z. Robinson. The latter were usually removed from the custody of his home, just in case guests showed up, and also because Joe couldn't stand them himself. Of course, the neighbors didn't exactly enjoy dog-pies in the middle of the street, but what were they going to do about it?
The rest of the houses on Basin Street, Chicago, were decorated in much the same way, besides the fact that some of them didn't have dogs. Scattered about the street were other factories which continually spewed disgusting rot into the air, giving the inhabitants the Basin Street Blues.
After Joe practiced every day, he would eat his lunch, and then practice some more. He's actually pretty lucky that his neighbors didn't mind all-day jazz soloing. Other neighbors would be on his case and he'd never live it down unless he tuned it down. The people on Basin Street didn't really care at all about much of anything, so Joe never got any kind of complaint from them, lucky for him. Recently, Joe had been practicing extra hard because of a big concert set to occur in a week. At this concert, a bunch of big, impressive, and important people, like the governor, president, and school custodian, were rumored to be showing up, and everyone in the band (especially Joe) wanted to make a great show for these nobilities.
Anyway Joe did not have much of a life outside of his music and his frequent visits to the Shoebox Speakeasy.
Actually, there was one thing more....
The music was sweet on Royal Garden Street.
Joe stood in the middle of the street beneath an overhanging patio, sweetly, smoothly, and strangely beautifully, honking out lovely ballads with his tenor sax. The folks on Royal Garden Street loved it, but Joe wasn't playing for them. He was only playing for one resident, and that lucky resident was sweet Georgia Brown.
Georgia was a lovely lady who lived in an apartment on Royal Garden Street. She was a tall, slim, dark woman with deep brown eyes and a lovely, ear-catching voice. Joe and she are madly in love, but Joe is to shy and poor to ask her to marry him.
Actually, the two of them weren't always on even terms with one another. In fact, when they first met they hated each other.
It was on the occasion of the monthly beer chug-a-lug contest at the Shoebox. Joe was new at the place, and Sam thought it might help him fit in if he tried the chug-a-lug against their defending champ, Miss G....
"So, Joe was it?" Sam had said, "You seem pretty cool, but how are you at drinking?"
"Huh?" wondered Joe.
"Never mind." Then Sam shouted to everyone within earshot, "I think it's high time for our monthly Chug-a-Lug contest!" The crowd cheered, and then started chanting, "Chug-a-Lug! Chug-a-Lug!"
After everyone calmed down, Sam continued: "I think it might be fun to have the new guy try. We'll have her face Miss G. Where's Miss G.?" the small group cheered even louder, and brought forth a strange, relatively petite, woman, with a nasty look on her face.
Though shaken by the girl's looks, Joe decided to go forth and partake in the festivities anyway. The two challengers sat at opposite ends of the table. Miss G. spat out a hunk of tobacco and said darkly, "Take yer best shot."
And that's exactly what Joe did. He took a couple of shots, actually. So did Miss G. In fact, she took more.
At about the third cupful, Joe's head was spinning. After the fourth, he was seeing spots. A fifth came. Joe had no idea of what was happening: he had lost all feeling in his brain. The last thing he saw was Miss G. flashing a sly, but extremely beautiful grin.
Then he fell...
...he fell...
Joe fell in love.
Suddenly, the music stopped! "Miss G." stepped out onto the patio to look for her lover, and at the same time, she gave a little speech:
"Robinson, Joe Robinson, wherefore art thou, Robinson?
I knew him well.
Thy music hast ceased, and 'tis now but a mere memory.
Where is thy jazz, thy beautiful ballads?
They are no more, they cease but as I am listening.
What's in a song? A song is but a shadow of the soul.
Oh, Robinson, Joe Robinson, wherefore art thou?"
"I'm over here!" yelled Joe. "Oops! I mean,
"Fair Georgia, on my mind,
I am as yet right under your nose,
and to prove my love shall I scale these walls,
and meet my lass
in her home, her proper dwelling!"
(The people of Royal Garden Street loved it when Joe came over not only because of the sweet sounding music he played, but also because of the inspirational poetry that was inspired as a result of these meetings.)
At this point Joe thought it would be proper to meet his lady in her patio, so he proceeded with a running start towards the small apartment...
...He leapt!...
High up in the air flew Joe Robinson! So high in fact that he, almost reached Georgia's high patio...
...almost...
SMACK!!
Georgia could all-but keep herself from laughing as her unfortunate suitor slunk to the ground.
Joe's house was a run-down shack he had bought for a very small number of pennies. It had a horrible paint-job, and was littered with suits of clothing and little surprises from his dog, Bleu Z. Robinson. The latter were usually removed from the custody of his home, just in case guests showed up, and also because Joe couldn't stand them himself. Of course, the neighbors didn't exactly enjoy dog-pies in the middle of the street, but what were they going to do about it?
The rest of the houses on Basin Street, Chicago, were decorated in much the same way, besides the fact that some of them didn't have dogs. Scattered about the street were other factories which continually spewed disgusting rot into the air, giving the inhabitants the Basin Street Blues.
After Joe practiced every day, he would eat his lunch, and then practice some more. He's actually pretty lucky that his neighbors didn't mind all-day jazz soloing. Other neighbors would be on his case and he'd never live it down unless he tuned it down. The people on Basin Street didn't really care at all about much of anything, so Joe never got any kind of complaint from them, lucky for him. Recently, Joe had been practicing extra hard because of a big concert set to occur in a week. At this concert, a bunch of big, impressive, and important people, like the governor, president, and school custodian, were rumored to be showing up, and everyone in the band (especially Joe) wanted to make a great show for these nobilities.
Anyway Joe did not have much of a life outside of his music and his frequent visits to the Shoebox Speakeasy.
Actually, there was one thing more....
The music was sweet on Royal Garden Street.
Joe stood in the middle of the street beneath an overhanging patio, sweetly, smoothly, and strangely beautifully, honking out lovely ballads with his tenor sax. The folks on Royal Garden Street loved it, but Joe wasn't playing for them. He was only playing for one resident, and that lucky resident was sweet Georgia Brown.
Georgia was a lovely lady who lived in an apartment on Royal Garden Street. She was a tall, slim, dark woman with deep brown eyes and a lovely, ear-catching voice. Joe and she are madly in love, but Joe is to shy and poor to ask her to marry him.
Actually, the two of them weren't always on even terms with one another. In fact, when they first met they hated each other.
It was on the occasion of the monthly beer chug-a-lug contest at the Shoebox. Joe was new at the place, and Sam thought it might help him fit in if he tried the chug-a-lug against their defending champ, Miss G....
"So, Joe was it?" Sam had said, "You seem pretty cool, but how are you at drinking?"
"Huh?" wondered Joe.
"Never mind." Then Sam shouted to everyone within earshot, "I think it's high time for our monthly Chug-a-Lug contest!" The crowd cheered, and then started chanting, "Chug-a-Lug! Chug-a-Lug!"
After everyone calmed down, Sam continued: "I think it might be fun to have the new guy try. We'll have her face Miss G. Where's Miss G.?" the small group cheered even louder, and brought forth a strange, relatively petite, woman, with a nasty look on her face.
Though shaken by the girl's looks, Joe decided to go forth and partake in the festivities anyway. The two challengers sat at opposite ends of the table. Miss G. spat out a hunk of tobacco and said darkly, "Take yer best shot."
And that's exactly what Joe did. He took a couple of shots, actually. So did Miss G. In fact, she took more.
At about the third cupful, Joe's head was spinning. After the fourth, he was seeing spots. A fifth came. Joe had no idea of what was happening: he had lost all feeling in his brain. The last thing he saw was Miss G. flashing a sly, but extremely beautiful grin.
Then he fell...
...he fell...
Joe fell in love.
Suddenly, the music stopped! "Miss G." stepped out onto the patio to look for her lover, and at the same time, she gave a little speech:
"Robinson, Joe Robinson, wherefore art thou, Robinson?
I knew him well.
Thy music hast ceased, and 'tis now but a mere memory.
Where is thy jazz, thy beautiful ballads?
They are no more, they cease but as I am listening.
What's in a song? A song is but a shadow of the soul.
Oh, Robinson, Joe Robinson, wherefore art thou?"
"I'm over here!" yelled Joe. "Oops! I mean,
"Fair Georgia, on my mind,
I am as yet right under your nose,
and to prove my love shall I scale these walls,
and meet my lass
in her home, her proper dwelling!"
(The people of Royal Garden Street loved it when Joe came over not only because of the sweet sounding music he played, but also because of the inspirational poetry that was inspired as a result of these meetings.)
At this point Joe thought it would be proper to meet his lady in her patio, so he proceeded with a running start towards the small apartment...
...He leapt!...
High up in the air flew Joe Robinson! So high in fact that he, almost reached Georgia's high patio...
...almost...
SMACK!!
Georgia could all-but keep herself from laughing as her unfortunate suitor slunk to the ground.
